The waters of my brain are too murky lately to write easily to anyone but myself.

I'm still very young, but the world seems to have darkened significantly over the past several years as my understanding of it has grown.

I still believe that to see truly is the heart of all mercies. That seeing is where hope and possibility begin. First comes the clarity of sight — then hope. But there's pain between, in the space of gaining clarity.

And my body is so heavy from the pain of this work lately. I do not want to see any more — this society is terrible, I get it, and now there is so little left for me to stand on. I trust that with greater understanding, though, hope will return. Like second simplicity. Second hope.

So I am saying every day to myself, Do not run. Wider. Open your eyes.

The pain of knowing too much nearly always hides itself in women's bodies. We have so much to hold up and hold together, that sometimes there's nowhere else for it to go. It makes us heavy and thick, slow and hurting.

To stay with that, and to open your eyes again is the greatest kind of bravery.